


Wildfire

by aSofterPunk



Series: Punk AU [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Child Neglect, Hurt/Comfort, Punk AU, anger issues, descriptive neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 11:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17042567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aSofterPunk/pseuds/aSofterPunk
Summary: Logan has a temper, fueled by years of neglect. Roman experiences it for the first time.





	Wildfire

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Punk AU- find more at asofterfan.tumblr.com <3

Logan Moore had a temper. 

It was common knowledge, something everyone knew and many had witnessed. Even on good days there was a tension in his body, eyes narrowed as he stalked through the hallway like a leopard. But there were good days- his anger was like the tides, rising and ebbing with no pattern to the outside eye.

Today was a bad day.

His jaw ached from grinding his teeth together, his palms littered with crescent moon indents. He wanted to throw something, hit something, scream until his throat bled.

All things considered, fate seemed to be on his side. Patton was home with a persistent cold, which Logan was secretly grateful for. He didn’t know if he could handle Patton’s energy today and he knew Patton didn’t always handle Logan’s anger very well.

Virgil met him outside the school as usual and, all-knowing friend that he was, immediately understood. The goth punk didn’t bother giving a greeting, he just fell into step beside his best friend and turned his intimidation factor up a notch. As they walked through the halls Virgil let his footsteps fall heavier than usual, eyes glaring out from the shadow of his hood, hissing at anyone who looked like they were even considering approaching the two. Logan knew how hard it was for Virgil to _not_ try to be invisible, but Virgil knew that Logan was already a hair’s breadth from snapping and that he would regret it later if he ended up chewing out some innocent freshman. Not for the first time, Logan felt immensely grateful that he and Virgil had found each other. Later he would find a way to make it up to him. For now, he wasn’t capable of much more than slamming his locker shut like it has personally offended him.

This was going to be a long day.

~

For the most part, Logan disliked the summer day camp he got sent to every year. The five year old pouted as the group was shuffled to the next activity. His parents were always looking for new things to get their son out of their way- after school activities and camps and a never ending cycle of babysitters. The summer camps where alright, Logan enjoyed when they had quiet reading time or when they had science activities (Logan _loved_ science, he wanted to stay and talk with the teacher all day but he was always sent away before he could get through all his questions), but he hated being expected to run around and play games with strange kids that were always too loud, and rough, and who made fun of him for the stains and wrinkles in his clothes.

Luckily, the next room they went to was the quiet room- where the kids could read or draw or do other quiet activities. Logan grinned in relief, scurrying to snag a book and quickly claim the blue bean bag chair in the corner. He liked the ocean alphabet book- showing a different sea creature for each letter, and he settled in to enjoy the quiet.

He didn’t notice one of the counselors frowning at him. The middle aged woman made her way over, crouching next to the young child, “Logan, you’re holding that book very close to your face,” she pointed out.

Logan furrowed his brows at her, confused, “I’m reading it.”

“I understand,” she nodded, “but it’s bad for your eyes to hold it so close,” she gently pulled the book down so it was closer to Logan’s lap.

But Logan only frowned in frustration, pulling the book back up, “But then I can’t read it!”

“Logan-” She tried to pull the book back again, but Logan snatched it back, clutching it to his chest.

“I want to read it!” He raised his voice. Sometimes he needed to yell to be heard.

“Okay, alright!” The counselor stood up, sighing in defeat. Logan huffed as he pulled the book back up. The woman moved back to the front of the room, motioning for one of the other camp directors. The two adults had a hushed conversation, occasionally glancing at the boy in the corner with a book a few inches from his face as they discussed what to do.

“I’ll talk to his parents… One of them usually picks him up on Sundays…. I’m surprised they haven’t taken him to the doctor for this yet…”

~

“Hey, Specs! Wait up!”

Logan felt his teeth clench, shaking his head as he was jerked from his thoughts. He and Virgil had parted ways a few minutes earlier, each having their next classes on opposite sides of the school. But now Logan forced himself to take a deep breath, keeping his face neutral as he turned to the red-head running up to him, “Yes, Roman?”

The taller boy skidded to a halt in front of him, coat sweeping dramatically around him as he grinned charmingly. It had been nearly three weeks since the steampunk had entered Logan’s life, the bruise on Roman’s jaw long faded away. Logan still had mixed feelings on the dramatic teen- he seemed like a genuinely good person, him and Patton clicking instantly, and Logan had learned by now to trust Patton’s judgement. But at the same time, Roman was…. _a lot_.

“Oh Logan, my friend, my best friend-”

“I thought Patton was your best friend?”

“-whom I LOVE,” Roman ignored him and Logan felt his eye twitch, “and who is without a doubt the smartest person in this school!”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “While that is true, I’d appreciate if you could get to the point and just tell me what you want.”

Roman sighed dramatically, “I need help with the chemistry worksheet we got.”

“We _just_ went over the material in class.”

“But Ms. Kaun talks so fast!” Roman exclaimed, pouting, “and she’s so monotone, I don’t know how anyone is able to absorb what she says.”

“The rest of us seem to manage,” Logan rolled his eyes, preparing to walk away.

Before he could get more than two steps, Roman rushed to block his path, “Pleeeease, Logan? Pretty please? Just this once!” His hands were clasped in front of him in a desperate plea.

Logan glared, fists clenching at his sides. It wouldn’t be just once, he could already tell. He forced his hands to relax as he sighed. After all, he _did_ want a distraction.

“Fine. Meet me in the library after school and I’ll go over the assignment with you.”

Roman cheered dramatically, “Yes! Thank you, you most wondrous brainiac! I knew there was a good reason to be friends with a nerd- ACK!” Roman stumbled, clutching the shin Logan had just kicked, “RUDE!”

“Library. 3:15. Don’t be late,” Logan snapped, resuming his walk to class. There must have been something in his eyes, because the sea of students parted a little faster for him than usual.

~

Logan was seven, and he had eaten the last slice of bread two days ago.

His tummy growled as he walked home from the elementary school down the street, glaring at his shoes as hunger twisted inside him. All day at school he had been grumpy, snapping at his classmates and getting sent to sit outside twice before lunch. He didn’t even bother going to the cafeteria, knowing that he had no money in his pockets and that being surrounded by food would only make him crankier.

Surely his dad would be coming home soon… ever since the last babysitter had quit he usually came by at least once a week, maybe twice, and it had been nearly a week and a half now. He had run out of cereal and peanut butter a few days after his father left, followed by the milk and bananas. After finishing the bread, he had scoured the kitchen, looking for anything to satisfy his hunger, but all he had found was a package of raw frozen chicken that he didn’t know how to cook and a jar of jam. He ate a spoonful of the sweet spread whenever the hunger pains grew too sharp.

The jar was getting low.

~

Logan clenched his pen, wishing he could just snap it in half.

He regretted his decision to help Roman almost immediately. He and Virgil sat across from Roman at one of the tables in the library, books and papers spread out in front of them. It had been barely fifteen minutes and Roman was already staring off into space, pencil tapping against the table distractingly.

“Roman,” Logan snapped, startling the other boy, “Pay. Attention.”

Groaning, Roman dropped his head onto the table, “But this is _boring_. I could be practicing lines for the play right now! Or finally fixing that tear in my vest!”

Logan narrowed his eyes, “ _You’re_ the one who asked for help with this assignment.”

“Yeah well,” the red-head sighed, waving his hand vaguely, “I was more hoping I could just look at your answers. I didn’t realize I was going to have to sit through another lecture.”

“If I let you copy my answers you won’t actually learn anything, which means you’ll be screwed when we have the test on this material. I’m trying to avoid having to deal with you begging me to save your ass if that happens.”

Virgil snickered as Roman gasped in offense, “It’s not like we don’t have reviews in class before exams!”

Logan slammed one hand onto the table, earning a glare from the librarian,, “We had a whole lesson on this material today and that didn’t do _shit_ for you apparently!”

Roman pouted, but at least had the good grace to look admonished, “Chemistry is just… hard.”

“That’s why you have to pay attention,” Logan ground out, “If you know it’s not your best subject, then you know you can’t slack off. This is actually really interesting information if you would just pay attention.” Logan ground out.

“Yeah, yeah,” Roman sighed, sitting up straighter and pulling his worksheet closer to him, “keep going then you nerd.” His tone was dismissive, and Logan felt his fingers curl on the tabletop.

He kind of wanted to rip Roman’s hair out.

~

Glaring at the tiles in front of him, Logan crossed his arms petulantly as he sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair outside the principal’s office. The nine-year-old didn’t care what the teachers said. He wasn’t sorry. He had just been reading under a tree at recess, but a group of boys was playing nearby and one of them, Travis, kept kicking their soccer ball at him. He’d asked them _three times_ to stop, to leave him alone, to _listen to him_. The fourth time the ball had come flying at him, hitting him and knocking his book from his hands, Logan had wasted no time jumping to his feet and tackling Travis to the ground, shoving his face into the grass as he screeched at him. It took only a moment for a teacher to come and pull him off, dragging him to the principal’s office.

Forty-five minutes had passed; Fifteen being lectured and thirty as the administrator tried to get a hold of Logan’s parents. Logan could hear the secretary talking to the principal through the door.

“I’ve tried numerous times- Mr. Moore’s phone just goes straight to voicemail, and Ms. Moore’s assistant said she’s unavailable.”

Logan heard the muffled sound of the principal scoffing, “I don’t blame them, I wouldn’t want to deal with him either.”

For the first time, Logan felt the fire in his chest fizzle out, replaced by an icy cold feeling in his heart. He knew his parents didn’t like him, didn’t like being around him or taking care of him, but he’d never really thought about _why_. He couldn’t remember a time when either of his parents had wanted him- had they known from the very start that he would be a bad kid? Could they just tell, from the moment he was born, that he was going to be more trouble than he was worth? Could _everyone_ tell?

Twenty minutes later they finally got a hold of his father, the man irate at having been interrupted, but he agreed to come and get his son. Fifteen minutes after that one of Mr. Moore's arrived, explaining that he had been sent to take Logan home.

The next day, Travis is talking loudly with his friends, sneering in Logan’s direction, “My mom says he’s a _problem child_ \- there’s just something wrong with him.”

Logan agrees. He still throws sand in Travis’ eyes and screams, “The only _problem_ I have is _you_ , you ignorant jerk!”

This time they don’t bother trying to call his parents. They just give him detention.

~

To his credit, Roman did try. At first.

They managed to wade through the first half of the sheet, Logan going over the information and trying to guide Roman to the right answer without giving it to him directly. But as time passed, Roman got more and more distracted, gaze drifting around the room and fingers tapping against the table, occasionally trying to go off on an unrelated tangent instead of answering the questions.

Logan felt like something was burning inside of him, even as he tried to swallow it back, “Roman,” he said with a clipped tone, “I’ve gone over this question _three times_ now. _Listen_ to me.”

“Right, right, sorry,” Roman blinked and he focused back on the table. Virgil had been working on his own homework, but was now looking between the two punks with concern, eyes darting down to see Logan’s white knuckled grip on his pen.

Taking a deep breath, Logan started to speak again, outlining the chemical reaction described in their book. Then, Roman’s phone chimed next to him. Virgil looked over nervously, “Roman….” he tried to catch his attention, to stop him, to warn him. But it was too late. Roman picked up his phone, leaning on his hand as he checked the new message he had received, already beginning to tune out the punk sitting across from him.

Logan had had enough.

Jaw snapping shut, his arms shot out fast as lightning and swept across the table, sweeping their supplies off the edge, books and notebooks and pens crashing loudly to the floor.

“ _STOP **FUCKING** IGNORING ME!_”

Roman yelped, jumping in his seat, dropping his phone, eyes wide and fixed on Logan in surprise and fear. Out of the corner of his eye Logan saw Virgil flinch away, sending a spike of guilt through him, but not enough to quell the rage coursing through his veins.

“Mr. Moore!” The librarian exclaimed, but Logan was fixated on the steampunk in front of him. Slamming his hands on the table, Logan stood, leaning forward to loom above Roman..

“Do I have your attention now?” He hissed, “I’m sorry if my presence is an _inconvenience_ to you, but if you don’t like it then at least have the guts to tell me to my goddamn face instead of trying to will me away like a _fucking child!_ ”

“Mr. Moore!” The librarian rushed over, glaring and pointing to the exit, “Out. _Now._ ”

Logan held Roman’s gaze for one more moment, trying to light him on fire with his eyes. Finally, with one last growl, he turned away, kicking his chair viciously as he left. He didn’t even bother grabbing his things; Virgil would return them later, he knew. As he stalked out of the room, every eye was on him, following his exit.

 _Good_ , he thought, slamming the door behind him.

_Let them fucking remember me._

~

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…” Logan mumbled into the phone pressed against his ear.

Logan cradled his arm to his chest, whimpering when it was jostled. He had been distracted walking down the stairs and had missed the last step, tripping and landing painfully on his wrist in his attempt to catch himself.

_“You’ve reached Robert Moore-”_

Logan groaned in frustration as he once again was sent to his father’s voicemail. There was a beep in his ear and he snarled, “Dad, call me back _now_. I hurt my wrist but I can’t go to the doctor without either you or your insurance card. Call. Me. Back.”

He hung up, tossing his phone onto the kitchen table. Moving to grab a package of frozen peas from the freezer, Logan felt anger simmering in his stomach. He was mad at his father, mad at the way his calls were constantly ignored, but he was always mad about that, that anger had nowhere to go, his parents weren’t _here_ , so Logan found it directed at himself.

He felt so stupid.

It was about a year ago, just before Logan’s twelfth birthday, that Logan received his cell phone, along with a credit card “for emergencies” from his father.

(Logan wanted nothing more than to max the card out on the first day, just out of spite, but he needed a new coat, he had grown out of his old one, sleeves stopping halfway down his forearm, and the zipper was broken and he was so cold and he kept getting sick and his parents wouldn’t take him shopping and he knew he needed this card for when something like this inevitably happened again.)

Now, Logan felt foolish for not thinking about asking for his own insurance card as well. This was his own fault for not thinking far enough ahead, not covering all of his bases, he should have seen this coming, stupid stupid _stupid_.

Sliding to sit on the floor next to the fridge, Logan ground his teeth together, blinking rapidly. He wanted to hit something. Curling his arms into his chest, he held the makeshift ice pack to his wrist, sucking in a breath as he pressed maybe a little harder than he needed to.

He was so stupid.

~

“Hey.”

Virgil finds him sitting behind the gym, hands clenching and unclenching where they rest across his knees, eyes glaring out at nothing.

Looking over, Logan sees that Virgil has both of their backpacks slung across his shoulders. Sighing, he runs a hand through his blue hair. He’s still mad. He still feels guilty, too.

“I’m sorry. For scaring you.”

Virgil shrugged nonchalantly, “You scared Roman more.”

“No I didn’t.”

Huffing out a laugh, Virgil dropped Logan’s backpack in front of him, “Okay, maybe that’s true,” he sat down beside the tense teen, “but I _get it_ , Lo. Roman doesn’t.”

“He doesn’t need to ‘get it’, he just needs to show me some fucking respect.”

There is a few minutes where they sit in silent together, no uncomfortable but not peaceful. Eventually, Virgil speaks, “You should talk to him.”

“Why? I doubt he wants to talk to me anyway.”

“He doesn’t get it,” Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, “but I don’t think you do, either.”

“Excuse me?”

Virgil shrugged, “Misunderstandings are a bitch.” He leaves it at that, standing and stretching, “You wanna go to the studio and distract Remy while I switch out her coffee with decaf?”

There is a meaning beneath his words, the same message they always give each. _Let’s not go home, let’s go anywhere but home, let’s stay out all night and pretend there’s someone waiting for us._

Nodding, Logan accepted Virgil’s hand to rise to his feet. “Yeah,” he says, “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

~

Logan’s anger felt like embers in his stomach, a constant burn that ate away at him. It burned _him_ more often than anyone else, left him feeling raw and charred. But sometimes the fire grew, flames crawling up his chest and throat until he found himself spitting flames at anyone who got too close.

Last night was like swallowing gasoline.

Last night Logan had watched a silver Lexus pull into the driveway for the first time in nearly a month. Last night Logan had retreated to his room, not wanting to be around just so the familiar stranger could walk through the front door and not look at him. Last night Logan had curled up and bit back the words that he knew from experience wouldn’t change shit. Last night Logan put his headphones on and turned his music up too loud and tried to pretend that the house was quiet because it was empty, that he wasn’t being ignored, that he hadn’t been forgotten. Last night Logan felt helpless, and worthless, and lost, and _alone_.

In the morning, he would turn those feelings into goddamn _kindling_.

~

Virgil and Logan stayed out for as long as they could, goofing off with Remy until the shop closed. They tried to follow Remy to a bar, but the tattoo artist seemed to be in a mood of his own, shooing the teens away so that he could drown whatever he was feeling in alcohol. They wandered around town aimlessly, dropping by cafes and corner stores for snacks, stopping occasionally so Virgil could tag a particularly bare wall, laughing with each other and allowing themselves a small slice of happiness. Finally, around 2am, they made their way back to Logan’s house, the blue haired teen feeling an indefinable cocktail of emotions when he saw the empty driveway.

When they finally crawled into bed, Logan moved to turn off his alarm, no intention of going to school in the morning. But Virgil gripped his wrist softly to stop him, “We’re going,” he stated firmly.

Logan groaned, “Virge, it’s almost 3am- let’s just ditch.”

“You need to talk to Roman,” Virgil stated plainly, settling back to pull the covers up over his shoulders, “Besides, Patton texted earlier and he’s finally well enough to come back to school. I wanna see him.”

“Uuuuuuuugh,” Logan let his head drop onto his pillow dramatically, “fine. We’ll go to school so you can hang out with your new best friend.”

Virgil snorted, shoving his shoulder, “Oh shut up, you loser.”

“I’ve been replaced! By _pastel!!_ ”

“Oh, you _wish_ you could get rid of me that easily,” rolling over, Virgil threw himself across Logan’s chest, Logan grunting as the breath was knocked out of him. Virgil curled himself around his friend, clutching him tight and laughing as Logan tried to push him off.

Despite his best efforts, Logan started laughing too.

~

Not surprisingly, both boys were practically zombies the next morning, and it was with great effort that they dragged themselves out of bed. The air was brisk as they walked to school, the journey spent mostly in companionable silence.

As the high school can into sight, Logan sighed, crossing his arms, “What the fuck do I even say to him?”

Virgil shrugged unhelpfully, “As long as you say it in your indoor voice I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

Logan shoved him playfully, “You’re the one who wanted me to talk to him!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually _listen_ to me.”

“You little shit.”

Too soon, they were approaching the front steps, quickly spotted by two colorful figures leaning against the side of the main building away from the crowds. Patton smiled widely, bundled up slightly more than usual with a thick black sweater, his beanie, and a soft pink scarf. His nose was still red from his cold, but his cheeks weren’t flushed like they had been the last time his friends had seen him.

“Logan! Virgil!” He rushed over to them, throwing his arms around Logan, “It’s so good to see you!” Releasing the blue haired punk, Patton turned to Virgil, taking both his hands and swinging them lightly between them.

Roman followed hesitantly behind him. Oh, he tried to appear as grand as any other day, but Logan could see the stiffness in his body, the way his smile was forced and his eyes darted nervously between Logan and literally anything else.

“Indeed, this past week has not been the same without you, our pastel padre!”

“Aw, thanks Roman! I missed you guys too!” Patton beamed.

Virgil smiled softly before speaking, “Hey, we started a new assignment in art. I can tell you about it and show you some examples before class if you want.”

At first, Patton tilted his head to the side curiously, but a moment later he was grinning knowingly. Logan cursed internally. Roman had definitely told him what happened.

“Good idea, Virge!” Waving at the other two, the mismatched pair began to head inside, “We’ll see you guys at lunch, okay!” And just like that, they were gone, leaving Logan and Roman standing awkwardly beside the school. The silence stretched on, each becoming more uncomfortable, until finally they both spoke.

“Look, I shouldn’t have-”

“I’m sorry for-”

They both stuttered to a stop. Logan sighed, “I should be apologizing. Making a scene like that was… unnecessary.”

Roman shrugged sheepishly, “Perhaps, but you can’t deny I more or less goaded you into it, even if that wasn’t my intention.”

Logan hummed, not disagreeing as he crossed his arms and looked to the side.

The first bell for classes chimed behind them, startling the two boys out of their thoughts. Logan groaned, “Nope. We’re not postponing this. You cool being late?”

“Hah! I’m usually late to first period. The teach is a saint and just ignores it now.”

Logan snorted, “Nice,” he tossed his bag onto the ground, moving to lean against the brick building, “I’m not late that often, so it’s not a big deal if it happens from time to time.”

Roman tossed his own backpack aside, moving to stand beside his friend. Logan stared at the ground, adjusting his glasses compulsively as he contemplated his next words. The second bell chimed. The two teens were still and silent beside each other.

"I hate being ignored,” Logan finally admits, “It… rubs me the wrong way. And I know we haven’t known each other long, but I want you to respect me. And I get that it’s something I have to earn or whatever, and maybe yelling at you isn’t the way to do that, but it’s worked well enough before so-”

"Wait, what?” Roman interrupted, his expression baffled, “Logan I already respect you.”

For a moment, Logan could only stare, “…What?”

Roman’s face was a caricature of dismay, even as his eyes shined with genuine concern. He slapped a hand to his chest and Logan realized he was about to receive one of Princey’s dramatic monologues. But for once, he found he couldn’t look away as the red head let all his thoughts, dramatic and poetic and _honest_ , pour out.

“Logan, when I first met you you punched me in the face because I was hurting your best friend and you were determined to protect him- that’s how caring and loyal you are. And then after I said my side, after you _gave me the chance_ to explain myself, you took me back to your house so I could ice me jaw- that’s how understanding and kind you are. And even though I can be a bit… much, you’ve still let me hang out with you and join your group of friends. That’s how compassionate you are. Logan how could I not respect you?”

Logan blinked, no idea how to respond. Roman’s tone soften, less dramatic and more soothing, “Sometimes my brain just won’t shut off, and it makes it hard to focus on anything. If I get distracted, it has nothing to do with disrespect. I’m sorry if I made you believe otherwise, and I'm sorry that it hurt you."

There was a tightness in Logan’s chest, but he couldn’t find a name for it. Swallowing thickly, he finally looked away, dropping his gaze to his feet and letting out a huff of laughter. “While what you said is… kind…I fear perhaps I have misled you.”

“Nonsense-!”

“Well then you don’t know me well enough,” Logan snapped.

Roman crossed his arms stubbornly, “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me-?”

“I know you just fine!” Roman exclaimed, “I know you enough to know that you’re a good person who shouldn't have to fight for respect and I’m right and you’re wrong and if you think you’re winning this fight than you’re even dumber than I thought!”

“Wha-” Logan blinked in dismay, “How did you manage to end that on an insult??”

“ _Because you drive me crazy sometimes!_ ” Roman threw his arms in the air. But as they fell back to his sides, Logan saw that he was grinning, “God, I just wanted to apologize for being a chronic daydreamer, not fight about your self esteem.”

Logan snorted, “Honestly this is pretty much how I expected this to go.”

Roman barked out a laugh, “I can’t say I’m surprised,” His gaze softened, even as he grinned mischievously, “The point I’m trying to make, is that my standards are too high to grace anyone less than fantastic with my presence. I only keep the best company, and whether you like it or not, that includes you.”

“I feel like I’ve been emotionally kidnapped.”

Roman threw an arm around his shoulder, “Stick with me, I’ve been told my ego is contagious!”

“Oh God, that’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard,” Logan shoved him away playfully, a small smile on his face. Picking his bag off the ground, he started to walk back towards the entrance, “Do you see this? I’d rather go to class than risk catching your delusions of grandeur!”

“There is nothing delusional about my grandeur!!” Roman screeched indignantly, quickly chasing after him. The two bickered jokingly as they made their way to class, and when Roman put an arm around Logan’s shoulders again, Logan didn’t push him away.


End file.
